


A Day for a Duel

by ael_xander



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: John Watson Army, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Victorian duel, subtle seduction, sword fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ael_xander/pseuds/ael_xander
Summary: John challenges Sherlock to a sword fight. A duel. John feels quite comfortable with his sword fighting skills, but discounting Sherlock is always a bad move. Especially when Sherlock is enjoys collecting forfeits.





	A Day for a Duel

_At the Hallows dueling grounds_

 

“Come now, Holmes. You’re giving up way too easily.” Dr. Watson shifted his position, his sword knocking at Sherlock’s weapon in a casual, yet precise, manner. “I thought you were better than this?”

Sherlock lifted a brow, looking at his dear friend with exasperated affection. “Watson, my dear sir, remember you’re the one who insisted on engaging in this form of exercise. I did not want to entertain this at all.” 

John’s brown eyes twinkled, his footsteps sure while he once again stepped forward and knocked his sword against the saber, rattling it in Sherlock’s hand. It was indeed his idea to bring Sherlock out today, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine and the crisp fall air. The fact both men dressed in appropriate fighting wear was just something which made John enjoy the matter even more. His eyes gazed up and down Sherlock’s wiry, yet well built body. Sherlock rarely made the effort to dress up, so this is truly a rare moment, a treat for John’s senses. He loved watching how Sherlock’s muscles moved beneath the tighter white soldier outfit, no longer hidden by his blue, long coat. 

Sherlock’s hand twitched at the knock against his weapon. He enjoyed seeing the smile in John’s eyes, but the doctor was testing his patience. Sighing, Sherlock lifted his saber and saluted John. “You realize this will be over in less than two minutes, John. Then you’ll owe me a penalty, which I’ll collect right here. The forfeit might be more than you’re willing to pay.” 

John smiled, his confidence raised by Sherlock’s stance and braggadocio. “You forget my time in service, Sherlock. I am trained in both the art of war and healing. I don’t think you have a chance. But go ahead and attempt to disarm me, Sherlock. Remember if I win, I’ll be claiming that forfeit instead.” 

Sherlock brought up his saber in the traditional manner, John did the same. Sherlock moved quickly to the right, which John anticipated. The clash of the swords reverbated up John’s arm. Yet, he felt energized as he stepped into the next engagement, sliding past the parry Sherlock presented to the right, only to be blocked by Sherlock’s sword tip under his hilt. He recovered, striking the first point, only to have Sherlock grunt. Without a word, Sherlock moved left, shifting his sword into his other hand, sliding it past his hilt again. 

Quickly, it moved around his hand, causing him to twist his wrist around, dropping the sword. Before he could recover, John had a saber at his throat and Sherlock was in his space, a rare smile alighting his face. “Well, Watson, I believe there’s a penalty to be collected, is there not?” 

John nodded, careful of the blade touching his neck. “Yes, Sherlock, I do believe there is. What do you wish of me for this forefeit?” 

The saber dropped away, Sherlock pulled John close, his lips hovering just above John’s. “You brought me out here, you thought to best me, my darling Watson. Now you will kiss me, then you will hold my hand and walk home with me, letting everyone who you know, just who you belong to–understand?” 

John smiled, leaning in, his lips lightly touching Sherlock’s, feeling their warmth. This was a first for them both. He placed his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders, letting the kiss deepen slowly, enjoying the taste of tobacco and mint that was uniquely Sherlock. Pulling away slowly, John nodded and dropped his left hand to Sherlock’s right hand. “Shall we, Sherlock? What about the sabers?”

“Taken care of already, Watson. I anticipated how this would end and made arrangements.” He nodded at a young man who grabbed the swords and ran off ahead of them. “Now, let us go home. I think you need a lesson on what it means to test my patience on things like this.” Sherlock winked at John as they walked passed a couple of John’s military friends, who looked on in surprise. 

John laughed. “As you say, Sherlock. Perhaps this time I can be the one to use the silk ties?” A couple of men coughed in agreement. 

Sherlock tightened his grip on John’s hand, bringing it up to his lips. “Maybe. Though personally, I think the chains are a bit tougher to escape. Let’s go home, my love.” Sherlock guided them both out the gate from the Hallows, hailing for a hansom cab. “I do love you, John. Don’t you ever forget that, even if I don’t always tell you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a good friend on Twitter, who asked for a Johnlock story. There was a beautiful picture of Benedict Cumberbatch in a white uniform with a saber. Thus this story came about in short order.


End file.
